


Conditioned Response

by Agashi



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agashi/pseuds/Agashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xolani Eze is a young Nurse-Practitioner who manages to land herself in the precarious position of being on a certain someone's medical team immediately following the events of Civil War. Fixing a broken mind is delicate work, however, and some wounds just don't heal... SPOILERS FOR CIVIL WAR! Bucky/OC pairing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Conditioned Response! I'm super excited to be posting this, since I've been utterly obsessed with Civil War this past week. Because this fic is set almost immediately after the end credits scene of the film, be aware that there will be massive spoilers! This should go without saying, given the summary, but I figured I'd throw out one last warning for anyone who might have stumbled in here on accident.
> 
> Also, I'm writing a mixed, African-American female protagonist, because it makes sense thematically (Wakanda, guys! C'mon!). The reason I'm being up front about this is because I'm not black myself. So while I promise to make every attempt to address issues regarding race sensitively and respectfully, I may make some mistakes out of ignorance. If this happens, please feel free to send me a considerately worded, polite reply. I will make any necessary adjustments accordingly.
> 
> Now, this story was born out of a deep desire to HUG THE SHIT out of poor Bucky, who – even when he wins – can't seem to catch a break. Seriously, all that trauma and hardship he went through, and his reward is to freeze for another few years? Yeah, screw that. Fixfic away!
> 
> This fic is rated M for swearing, strong violence, and perhaps some sexy stuff later on.
> 
> Finally, I do not own Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier, nor do I own the Marvel cinematic universe. I would be swimming in money if that were the case. Enjoy!

Solace:

 

“You seem to have a little something dribbling off your lip there, sweetheart.”

 

“Hilarious, Doctor.” Xolani put pointed emphasis on the title, but smiled to take the sting out of her words. She was getting used to the passive-aggressive remarks and prided herself on being able to roll with the punches most of the time. Still, the more plebeian attempts to write her off as a flighty, fluff-brained little girl fresh out of college were getting old.

 

Let the older female have a laugh at her expense. Nothing she could say would take away the fact that she, Xolani Eze, had gotten a foot in the door at the most prestigious private medical facility of the entire continent... As a nurse practitioner, no less! And yes, that did lead to her having to deal with quite a bit of crap from colleagues who considered a Nurse-Practitioner two steps up from some lady on the street with band-aids in her purse, but... it was worth it to be able to work with so high-profile a client.

 

She'd been living with her parents and sisters in New York when the alien attacks happened. As a recently graduated nursing student barely into her second year as an RN, she had done what she could to help out.

 

Under pressure, she'd flourished, and when she had finally made it out of the rubble, she'd had a front row seat to the aftermath of that climactic battle. She'd even caught a glimpse of Captain America, speaking to a police officer, humble as pie. He'd glanced up, seen her there in torn, bloody hospital scrubs, and nodded appreciatively.

 

After that, there was no question of going back to school to get her Master's in Nursing. She killed herself studying and graduated with a specialization in psychiatric-mental health. It hadn't been her first pick of specialty, but her adviser had talked her into it. Apparently, she had a gift for listening to others and anticipating their emotional needs... a rarer attribute among nurses than one would think.

 

In the end, Xolani agreed because she wanted to help people, and playing to her strengths seemed the best way to do that. Besides, psychiatric nurses were in high demand, which guaranteed some job security.

 

After graduation, her parents convinced her to visit her mother's home country of Wakanda and join a private practice there, where she knew people in the mental health field. She suspected a misguided attempt to familiarize her with her roots played a part in it too, but she acquiesced.

 

People weren't allowed to just pop in and out of the country on vacation, so she knew this might be one of her only opportunities to see the country of her mom's birth up close.

 

No one bothered to warn her that NPs weren't a recognized thing over there. To be fair, though, the staff at the private practice that accepted her application tried its best to be accommodating.

 

The head of the practice was a good friend of her parents', and she was grateful he allowed her to get her feet wet, but the prevailing attitude most patients had toward the love-child of a Wakandan native and her American husband was... chilly, to say the least. Even chillier than the idea that they let this “Dr. Nurse” treat them.

 

All in all, she was proud of herself for sticking it out as long as she had in that toxic environment.

 

She sent out several applications to various hospitals, clinics, and private practices back in the states, but before she could make any other arrangements... Miracle of miracles, her boss was contacted by the human resources department of the N'yongo Medical Center, one of the most technologically advanced private clinics in the country. It was known that they only catered to the wealthy and elite among Wakanda's citizens, and it just so happened that they had an opening for someone with mental-health expertise.

 

She found out much later that the suddenness of the offer was due to it being made chiefly for a very special American patient, should he awaken out of cryogenic sleep...

 

Her father's friend begged off on the excuse that he didn't want to abandon his patients, but mentioned that he happened to have a young, conveniently-American, Nurse-Practitioner under his wing who might be interested in such an opportunity – even if the work itself proved to be quite menial.

 

The offer had been too much to refuse...

 

And now, she was swallowing her pride, once again, listening to a bitter old doctor take shots at her, just because she considered her too inexperienced to be there. Sure, there were probably more qualified individuals who might have brought more to the table in the field of psychiatric health... but did any of them have nursing experience and an impeccable bed-side manner on top of that?

 

Her reasons for getting the job were between her and human resources.

 

And anyway, she hadn't been drooling in the first place. She'd just been observing how deep the shadows were under their patient's eyes.

 

As a point of medical interest, of course.

 

His skin was pale, even past the rim of frost coating the inside of his cryogenic pod. She wanted to ask how it worked: if the occupant could hear outside activity like a coma patient, or if the walls blocked out all sound as well as other stimuli. It seemed unlikely that she'd get an answer without being subtly picked apart for asking, though.

 

She resolved to look up a manual or talk to somebody on the engineering staff when she had some down-time.

 

“Since you seem so interested in our subject, why don't you monitor his vitals and write up last week's medical reports, while you're here,” Dr. Older-Woman simpered. Xolani made a point of not learning the names of anyone that thought they were better than her. It felt too much like she was validating their bullshit, otherwise. “You probably have much more experience with that than I do, Nurse.”

 

“Of course. I'll get right on that.” She kept her tone bland. Self-control was hard, but giving in to the temptation of sarcasm wasn't going to win her anything down the line. Better to make it clear she was being the grown-up in this situation.

 

She waited until the doctor left the room before turning to flip through their patient's chart. It really wasn't her job to do this. There were plenty of nurses around – who **weren't** rocking the white lab coat – that could monitor the vital readouts and make sure all the equipment was working properly.

 

… But if she delegated, that would be tantamount to putting her own pride above the welfare of her patient, at least in her mind. She wasn't nearly jaded enough yet to do that.

 

Dutifully going through the checklist, Xolani made sure to read every last printout of the patient's current status, which – without putting too fine a point on it – was basically comatose. No changes, though his heartbeat had sped up very slightly while they had been talking outside his pod. A dream of some sort, most likely.

 

Done with her task, she hesitated before leaving. It was nearly time for lunch, and she wasn't eager to enter the lion's den just yet.

 

Instead, she took a seat in front of the nearby holo-screen. It had taken her a while to get used to it; technology was much more advanced in Wakanda than the States. When no one was looking, she'd still sometimes catch herself staring at it like a kid looking a very informative lava lamp.

 

Now, however, she used the light from the screen to read the patient's chart more thoroughly. Most of it was information she had memorized weeks ago.

 

“James Buchanan Barnes; born in Brooklyn, New York, 1917.”

 

She wasn't sure why she started reading out loud. It just felt... rude somehow, to sit in his room with her back turned and then just completely ignore his presence.

 

“Biological age is 29, actual age is nearly 100. At some point, your left arm was replaced with a metal prosthetic. Metal arm was later ripped off – Damn, you've had it rough, huh?”

 

Only silence greeted her, but Xolani imagined he might have shrugged if he'd been able to answer. He seemed like the tough-guy type. She smiled at the thought before going back to the chart.

 

“Apart from your physical injuries, you suffer from PTSD and severe psychological trauma from mind control and repeated memory wipes.”

 

A year ago, she might have joked about this sounding like something out of a cheap science fiction novel, but knowing what she did about privately-funded technological advancements... Nothing she heard truly surprised her anymore.

 

She continued in this vein for a while longer until she knew she was in danger of missing lunch completely.

 

“See you later, James,” she said, trying not to drag her feet too obviously as she stepped out into the halls and made for the cafeteria. Luckily, it seemed most of the staff had already come and gone.

 

She bought herself a yogurt and bacon-lettuce-tomato wrap before making her way toward one of the booth tables in the back.

 

“Eze!” Her name sounded too loud, echoing across the half-empty cafeteria. The speaker seemed to realize it as well, and he smiled at her sheepishly from his seat.

 

Xolani laughed a bit. Dr. Okafor was one of the nicer members of the medical staff at the facility, even if his interest in her bordered on transparent. Honestly, she might have considered dating him if he didn't also suffer from some of the same cultural xenophobia as everyone else in this country.

 

In fact, his first words to her had been something along the lines of, “But you seem so respectful for an American!”

 

“Dr. Okafor. How are you today?”

 

“Overworked, but overpaid, as well. I suppose I have nothing to complain about. And you? Are the older ladies giving you trouble again?”

 

She took her time unwrapping her food before answering. When he wasn't talking about nationalities or making generalizations, he was pleasant enough to talk to.

 

“You know me, Doctor. Keeping the peace, as always.”

 

His eyes crinkled in an attractive way when he smiled, and his teeth showed up stark white against the lustrous dark of his complexion. Xolani guessed him to be in his mid-thirties, though his more unassuming mannerisms made him seem younger at times... Exactly what she might have been looking for back home.

 

“How about your patient, oh Peaceful One? Any changes in his status?”

 

“I have a lot of patients. Which one would you be referring to?” Her eyes narrowed playfully, as they both knew she had only one patient in her charge worth mentioning. Indeed, the medical facility had otherwise saddled her with all of their safest, most routine cases.

 

She didn't mind too much, since she was there to help people, and would do so in whatever capacity was required, but it was busy work, and they all knew it. She got bored often, but it was a small price to pay.

 

The dry joke passed right over her companion's head and his friendly look darkened slightly. To be fair though, she wasn't a terribly funny person to begin with.

 

“The Winter Soldier. He is still sleeping, right?”

 

“Of course. What else would he be doing?”

 

“Good,” he replied emphatically, not answering her question. “I'll never understand why King T'Challa brought his father's killer into his own country.”

 

“Didn't the Avengers clear his name? I thought James Barnes was framed...”

 

“Was he? Then why was he imprisoned once again in ice? If he was framed, then who was the true murderer of our former king?” Okafor took his wire-rimmed, stereotypical doctor's glasses off the bridge of his nose and angrily wiped the lenses on the edge of a napkin. She knew they were now treading dangerous ground. Most of the people she met at work and in the city had very strong opinions about T'Chaka's death. He'd apparently been a much-loved ruler.

 

“Propaganda imposed by the rebel Avengers. If the combined nations of the world cannot control them, what can the King do but agree to harbor their comrade? It is to his credit that he managed to get the man put on ice where he can't murder anymore Wakandans, at the very least.”

 

Xolani kept her eyes on the tabletop between them. As one of the Winter Soldier's primary care physicians, she had been given clearance to know enough about what really happened that she knew he was dead wrong. Unfortunately, she'd also signed quite a few non-disclosure agreements. The information was very, very classified.

 

Biting her tongue to keep from blurting anything out in defense of the frozen man, she phrased her next comment delicately around a mouthful of yogurt.

 

“These are the Avengers we're talking about, though. Captain America, in particular. Do you really think they would impose their will on everyone like that? They've saved the WORLD, Doctor. More than once, I think.”

 

His lip curled for a moment, and she was almost certain he'd launch into a scathing assessment of her precious Captain America, but he seemed to realize who he was talking to at the last minute.

 

He made a visible effort to relax instead and shrugged.  
  


“Maybe, but Wakandan blood was on their hands even before they aligned themselves with that menace. We would all do well to take their words with a grain of salt.”

 

Xolani knew it would be fruitless to point out that the Scarlet Witch's actions had been a publicly acknowledged accident. Clearly, the time for listening was over, and all Okafor wanted was an audience to listen to him rant. It happened a lot when she was around, as everyone in the facility seemed to believe it was their duty to educate her on her skewed, _American_ perception of things.

 

Humming noncommittally, she continued eating at a steady pace, trying to get out of there and back to work, quickly.

 

“Anyway, Eze... I hope you're prepared to deal with him if the day comes that they decide to thaw him out.”

 

“I think I am.” She knew a lot more about the situation than he did, anyway.

 

He gave her a doubtful look, and her pride took another hit. It's hard when you realize that even your friends think your career is a joke.

 

“Be careful, Eze. The man is a killer who would rip your pretty throat out without thinking twice.”

 

“That's a pretty narrow-minded thing to say, coming from a doctor in the field of mental health,” she hissed, irritated that he thought so little of her ability, and finally feeling herself get defensive on her patient's behalf.

 

Grabbing her tray, she strode away from the table before even waiting to hear his response. The nerve of that ass-face!

 

Without thinking about it, she turned and made for James' room. Today was shaping up to be more stressful than most, and she really didn't feel like she could stomach the sight of anyone else right then.

 

His pod sat, just the way she'd left it, and she plopped down in the chair, spinning it to face him this time.

 

And then, because she felt she needed to let out her frustrations somehow, she began to talk to him.

 

“I'll never understand why it is that people who have NO CLUE what they're talking about always have the most shit to say!” As an afterthought, she added, “You ever have that problem, James?”

 

No response, but she did – oddly enough – feel better. She even laughed a bit at the fact that she was unburdening herself on someone who had no way of even hearing her.

 

“Soon they're going to have to sign **me** into the psych ward,” she drawled. “Then again, I think I'm safe until I start hearing you talk back. Anyone ever tell you you're a fabulous listener, James?”

 

She rose back to her feet, feeling too restless to keep sitting. On a whim, she pressed her hand against the clear, poly-carbonate walls of the cryogenic pod. It felt cool, but not cold to the touch like she'd thought. It would seem the cooling agent – whatever it was – was confined to the interior.

 

“Don't worry, James. I know what you've been through,” she found herself reassuring the poor man. He really did get the short end of the stick... “I've got your back.”

 

She watched his face through the barrier, and was momentarily blindsided by the sudden desire to know what color his eyes were.

 

“Doc-- er, Nurse? Uh, Miss Eze?”

 

Quickly tearing her attention away from the tube, Xolani turned to face the young nurse who was having trouble addressing her.

 

She smiled, trying not to let her embarrassment show. How long had the woman been standing there?!

 

“Xolani is fine. What can I do for you?”

 

“Your two o'clock appointment showed up early and Dr. Akerele wanted to know if you'd like to take her four-thirty. She has a conference to prepare for in the morning, and she knows you're already comfortable with her patient.”

 

“Yes, of course. Can you let her know for me? I might not have enough time to send her a message if my two o'clock runs over.”

 

The nurse nodded, though her face took on a pinched expression at having to do so. Xolani felt bad for making more work for her since she knew only too well how busy RNs could get, but she was still flustered from having been caught conversing with an unresponsive patient.

 

She turned to follow the other woman out, and neither of them noticed the slight spike in the Winter Soldier's heart-rate before they left.

 


	2. Catalyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments everyone! Hopefully you enjoy this chapter! Warnings for: rising tensions, gratuitous time-skips, and Xolani thinking way too hard about everything.
> 
> I do not own the Marvel Cinematic Universe, nor do I own the comic books in which its characters originate.

Catalyst:

 

“ **Why** didn't I eat first?...” Xolani mumbled to herself, pushing her shopping cart along the snack aisle. Everything always looked so much better when you were hungry.

 

That being said, it helped that she didn't recognize too many of the crackers and cookies they had in stock. Wakanda didn't import much in the way of food. They didn't need to, owing to the fact that their agricultural system was entirely self-sufficient. Wakandans were all about self-sufficiency.

 

Smiling at an older woman in a head scarf who was trying to keep her toddler from pulling all the cookies off a shelf, Xolani narrowed her selection down to two snacks before moving toward checkout.

 

The grocery store was always packed this time of day; full of people wanting to get their shopping done right after work. As such, she expected to be standing in line a while.

 

Xolani sighed, turning her attention to one of the large, overhead monitors that alternated between announcing the specials and showing local news reports. In a controversial move, King T'Challa was refusing all outside buyers of vibranium. Apparently, thanks to his association with the Avengers and Captain America's own notoriety, demand was at an all-time high.

 

“That's one sensible thing he's doing for us, at least,” the man in line behind her said to his wife. “Now if he'd just get rid of the rest of the foreign filth we have here--”

 

The man's wife hushed him quickly, but not before Xolani felt a chill move down her spine.

 

Abstractly, she knew that no matter how developed a country was, there would always be a subset of people who were prejudiced, for one reason or another. It was a sad fact of life, as she knew only too well as a black woman from the States.

 

But understanding a concept wasn't the same as hearing it directly from the horse's mouth...

 

Pretending to check her phone, she tried her best to brush it off. There was no reason to believe that this was any more than one man's rather extreme opinion. Still, the uneasiness stayed with her until she got home and eventually went straight to bed, hunger forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day started out badly. Her alarm didn't go off for whatever reason, and as she scrambled to get herself ready for work, her rumbling stomach reminded her that she'd gone to bed the night before without eating.

 

She didn't have time for more than the dry piece of bread she grabbed on her way out the door, so when lunch time rolled around, skipping the cafeteria became that much more of a non-option.

 

The room was packed when she got there; full of doctors, nurses, workers from the engineering department, and lab techs. Because of this, the lines were a little longer than she was used to. Xolani loaded up her tray with a little bit of everything while she waited for the cashier to ring her up. She wasn't too worried about over-eating. Her job kept her on her feet most of the day, and she had an elliptical machine in her apartment that she used to keep her naturally curvy figure on point.

 

Her food paid for, Xolani moved to one of the few empty tables left, mindful not to make eye contact with anyone on her way. All she wanted was to eat her lunch in peace and get back to work. No need to risk repeating the incident from the other day with Okafor. The minute she sat, however, she came to the sad realization that the deck _might_ just be stacked against her.

 

She was in the middle of unwrapping her chicken sandwich when she heard raised voices from the table right next to hers.

 

“-- Answer for his crimes!”

 

“-- The King's hands are tied, though--!”

 

“Wakanda's security should be the highest priority--”

 

“If the King can't--!”

 

“-- Maybe someone else should...”

 

The sandwich dropped to her tray from between suddenly nerveless fingers. ' _They can't be serious..._ ' She felt her hunger from moments before twist in her stomach. Nausea rose in its place, and she quickly took a sip of her carbonated water. It tasted like battery acid.

 

A thousand rationalizations flew through her mind at once... She could have misheard or taken the conversation out of context. They could have been talking about something completely unrelated to the Winter Soldier...

 

Any other day she might have been able to shrug it off as her being overly protective of her most high-profile charge, but with all the similar comments she'd been hearing lately...

 

' _No. No way that's all coincidence._ '

 

She ate mechanically, wondering what she ought to do with this information. Even if they **were** saying things like, “someone should do something,” it didn't necessarily mean she had anything to worry about. Talking crap to friends and colleagues was one thing; taking extremist actions was another.

 

For the love of God, these were doctors! Not soldiers.

 

' _Doctors with access to dangerous, semi-traceable drugs... Doctors who are adding to a discussion that even regular civilians are starting to have their own opinions on._ '

 

She finished up the rest of her lunch swiftly, planning to make a quick stop at her office before heading to her afternoon appointment. The scheduling software was still up on her computer, from when she'd been deciding what hours to work earlier.

 

Her mind made up, she made the necessary adjustments. There.

 

The time on her cellphone read twenty minutes still before she had to be anywhere, so she decided to pay her frozen friend a visit. His room was empty, luckily.

 

Taking her customary seat, she swiveled to face him.

 

“Hope you aren't sick of my company yet. You're going to be seeing a lot of me over the next few days...”

 

* * *

 

 

True to her word, Xolani found any excuse she could think of to check in on James, every hour, any time he wasn't being monitored by someone else. She'd gone so far as to fix her schedule so that it spanned the whole day. She wasn't sure what she thought was going to happen, but the thought of leaving him alone long enough for someone to slip in and--

 

' _What? Murder him? You've lost your damn mind, Xo._ '

 

It didn't matter how many times she told herself she was crazy, though. Watching over him had turned into a compulsion she couldn't fight. She might have thought she was being a little creepy, if she actually stopped to mull it over.

 

Nurses had dropped in on her more than once, surprised at her presence. One of them even asked what she was doing, rather aggressively.

 

Xolani, who had a myriad of excuses prepared for just such an eventuality, promptly flipped on her phone, attached to the portable speakers she'd brought in.

 

“Just thought I'd do a little experiment while I have some free time,” she explained, trying not to look suspicious. “See if he really can't hear anything in there...”

 

The nurse just looked at her, narrow-eyed.

 

“That poly-carbonate might not look thick, but the ice would probably block out any sound the barrier can't.” His tone bordered on rude, and it was an effort to smile at him disarmingly.

 

“Maybe, but there have been some fluctuations in his heart-rate lately. See?” This part was completely true, though she actually had no idea what might be causing it. The nurse straightened, looking surprised that she wasn't making things up.

 

“You're right,” he said, expression starting to look slightly worried. “I should let his attending physician know so they can monitor it more closely.”

 

Xolani tried not to show the flare of alarm she felt. Anyone who might wish James harm could use the irregular rhythm as an excuse to kill him and make it look like he died of natural causes. Instead of giving away her concern, she nodded agreeably.

 

“Good idea. Let them know I'll send them the reports periodically. I've already collected a lot of data for my own purposes, so I can continue doing it when I have downtime.” She forced a friendly chuckle. “I have so much of it, I feel guilty sitting around with nothing to do.”

 

“That's not really your job though, is it?”

 

“Ah, maybe not, but it's not like I don't have the experience.” The nurses at the facility could sometimes be pettier toward her than the doctors. This reminder that she wasn't considered much better than him on the medical hierarchy seemed to put the man in a much better mood, and he complied without further complaint.

 

Letting him believe that about her put a bad taste in her mouth, and she turned to look at James accusingly as soon as the nurse was gone.

 

“You see what I do for you?”

 

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than a noticeable spike in his heart-rate caught her attention. If she hadn't already had it on her mind, she might have missed it. As it was, she turned her music off swiftly, excited to test her new theory.

 

“Can you hear me, James?”

 

No change, though his heart beat was still pounding the same heightened rhythm as before. It was just high enough to be considered normal for a person in the deeper stages of REM sleep. She kept silent for a long moment, until he eventually settled back into his normal state.

 

Just as she was about to turn her speakers back up, she caught the sound of shoes clicking on the tile right outside the door.

 

“What are you doing here, Eze?”

 

Dr. Okafor stood, looking irritated and somewhat unnerved. Possibly he didn't want to be in the same room with the supposedly regicidal soldier.

 

Xolani cursed, mentally. She didn't have a clever enough lie prepared to deal with someone who actually knew her as more than a passing acquaintance. Deciding that she didn't want to raise his suspicions anymore than they already were, she went with nonchalance.

 

“I'm keeping one of my patients company, Doctor. Why?”

 

His scowl deepened.

 

“Because Dr. Apentang just told me you were going out of your way to hover over this... man.” He accentuated the last word as if there was doubt in his mind that the presence inside that pod was human. “Even going so far as to take over the menial tasks of his nurses. We both know you hate doing that.”

 

' _Shit_.' The situation was not going her way at all. ' _Well, when playing defense doesn't work..._ '

 

“And what does it matter if I _do_ decide to spend my time this way, Dr. Okafor? I explained – indirectly, true – to Dr. Apenteng why I didn't mind doing this. Maybe he misunderstood--”

 

“I don't think that's the problem, Eze,” he interrupted, looking at her sternly.

 

“Then what is? Tell me, is there some specific **reason** I should be out of this lab?” She was getting reckless with her words, but part of her hoped that being more obvious might get her an answer, finally. An answer about whether or not all her anxiety was just in her head. Instead of rising to her bait and getting frustrated, however, Okafor's expression turned softly regretful.

 

Anger she could have dealt with. This subtle look made her stomach clench with dismay.

 

“Just... Just take care of yourself, will you, Eze? I don't want to see...” Then, with the air of someone changing their mind halfway through a sentence, he gave a wry chuckle. “Exhaustion is a real threat in our profession. Don't try to do too much, eh?”

 

With that, he left, and Xolani felt the nervous apprehension in her core flare outward. Her limbs were shaking, she realized.

 

Glancing up at James' sleeping face from across the room, she sighed, trying to relax and get her faculties back under control.

 

“We might be in trouble, Handsome.” She rubbed an eye wearily, already dreading the long night ahead. Luckily, she kept a fleecy blanket in the back seat of her car for emergencies.

 

* * *

 

 

Refusing to think about the fact that she was officially cracked, Xolani shifted, trying to find a more comfortable seat on her perch. It was long past time she usually went home, and while she'd clocked out hours ago, she had no intention of leaving the room. At least, not until the morning, when her patient's attending physician would likely come in to double-check her findings. They _were_ pretty strange, after all.

 

She yawned.

 

' _None of that,_ ' she scowled, berating herself. ' _It's not even eleven yet._ '

 

She pulled up the holoscreen, and checked her patient's vitals one more time, just to reassure herself that he was fine while her back was turned. The practice was proving to be a lot more compelling than the stack of notes she had to go over from her sessions that day.

 

Her regular work had clearly suffered as a result of her distraction.

 

Just as she was about to stand up and stretch her legs, she heard a quiet knock on the door.

 

“Miss Eze?”

 

It was the same female nurse from the other day. Xolani was more than a little chagrined at being spotted by the same person, in the same position, almost, twice. ' _She probably thinks I have some kind of fetish for one-armed men..._ '

 

“Xolani, remember?” She smiled encouragingly, though her voice sounded tired, even to her own ears.

 

To her surprise, the nurse actually smiled back. It only looked a little bit forced.

 

“Right. Xolani. I thought you might like a cup of coffee from the nurses' station.” The younger woman shrugged, self-consciously. “I would have brought it in for you, but I wasn't sure if you took yours with sugar or not.”

 

Xolani was surprised, and unexpectedly moved by the considerate gesture. A cup of coffee would do her a world of good.

 

“Are you sure you guys don't mind?” She was already standing, ready to follow the nurse out.

 

“Not at all, though I warn you, Rina always brews it too strong.” They both chuckled.

 

“I don't mind. Strong is what I need tonight.”

 

The coffee was as powerful as promised, and Xolani accepted every sugar packet she was offered, while resisting the urge to ask for creamer. She suspected that might be an American thing, and she didn't want to break the pleasant mood.

 

They were the only two at the station, though she didn't think that was too unusual. The nurse, who identified herself as Keita, finished telling her a funny anecdote from when she worked in an ER, and Xolani laughed politely. She needed to get back, but she hoped not to offend the girl either. Women didn't often reach out to her in friendship here.

 

“Thanks,” she said, raising her cup in gratitude. “I needed this.”

 

At Keita's smile, she turned to leave. Suddenly, the nurse's arm shot out to grab her shoulder. Shocked, she looked up at Keita's face, only to see that the amiable grin from before had been replaced by an expression of acute panic.

 

She hurried to cover it up with another smile, but it was too late. Xolani had already seen it.

 

“Why are you in such a hurry? The man's frozen. He can't go anywhere.”

 

Alarm bells were ringing in her head, especially with Keita's hand still restricting her movement.

 

“Why don't you want me going back in there, Keita?” She asked, intensely dreading the answer.

 

The younger woman at least had the grace to look conflicted and guilty. When she finally responded, her voice was quiet as a grave.

 

“Don't go... Just stay here for a minute longer.”

 

Xolani felt fear paralyze her lungs, and she actually stopping breathing. For a wild moment, she almost believed that **she** was the one who had frozen. Then her coffee cup fell from her numb grasp and splashed hot liquid all over the nurse's scrubs and her own dress slacks. Jolted into motion from the suddenness of the coffee hitting her, Xolani spun and sprinted in the direction of James' room while Keita was busy crying out in surprise.

 

The sight of the door ajar sent her pulse pounding with fright. All organized thoughts flew from her mind as one distinct objective overshadowed all others: save James.

 

She swung the door open so hard it nearly cracked her in the forehead.

 

“STOP,” she said, putting every ounce of authority she possessed into the command.

 

A man she didn't recognize paused at the intrusion. He wore a white lab coat, but she didn't register him as a fellow medical professional. Right now, all she saw was a threat to her patient's life.

 

He was seated at the holoscreen monitor, back to her. She recognized the sequence he was inputting as a command to kill the pod's life support systems. No engineer herself, she still knew that if the power was turned back on within ten minutes, the incident could be written off as a technical malfunction – **if** enough people didn't care to investigate, which she realized with cold certainty would absolutely be the case.

 

It was too late to cover the distance. She didn't think she'd be able to overpower him in a physical struggle, anyway. Thinking fast, she did the only thing she could.

 

She turned and slapped a hand to the emergency extraction switch.

 

Immediately, the ice surrounding the inside of the pod began to recede. Across the room, the Winter's Soldier's heart monitor started beeping at an alarming rate. The man sitting at the console in front of her snarled before jumping up.

 

Honestly, she hadn't even considered the possibility that he might attack her after she'd successfully thwarted him.

 

Twenty-seven years of being naive to violence was clearly about to bite her in the ass.

 

Instead of turning and running for her life, she stupidly stood her ground, torn between self-preservation and wanting to make sure he couldn't hurt James before the thawing process was complete.

 

His long legs ate the distance between them like starving lions. His first punch was so wild that it barely glanced off her cheek, but the second, to her stomach, sent her reeling.

 

The pain was excruciating. She heaved, trying to get air into her pummeled lungs. Then he was pulling on her long braids, and when she happened to meet his eyes, she saw murder in them. The moment she got her wind back, she screamed.

 

He was able to land one kick on her ribs, hard enough that she felt certain they were bruised, if not cracked.

 

The crack came a second later, though it was a lot louder and closer to her ear than she'd expected. The man's bellow of pain confused her further, especially when she felt his grip on her hair loosen.

 

Suddenly free, she looked up.

 

Her attacker's arm had been broken at an unnatural angle, but she couldn't tear her eyes from the presence just behind him.

 

The presence whose eyes were as blue and piercing as un-thawed ice. It took one motion of the Winter Soldier's remaining arm to crush the screaming doctor's windpipe. He jerked, rasping out his distress quietly, and James gave him a hard sideways shove toward the other side of the room. Threat neutralized, he turned his attention to Xolani...

 

She couldn't tear her gaze from the deadly assassin's lifeless eyes. Something was wrong, she immediately realized. There was no empathy; no humanity, even.

 

And then he was there in front of her, his hand clenching the front of her blouse and coat. With disturbing ease, he used his grip to lift her body off the ground.

 

There was no doubt in Xolani's mind that she was staring her death in the face.

 

 


	3. Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was a little delayed because I was too busy watching Sebastian Stan videos on Youtube. He was on the late late show with James Corden and he had the best interview with Sharon Stone, who was, coincidentally, his big celebrity crush as a teenager... He spent the whole time flirting with her outrageously, and then when she's finally like, “You know what? You really are kind of cute,” he goes RED and all embarrassed and it's seriously the most adorable thing ever... 
> 
> Also, Does anyone know why HYDRA is always in all-caps? It's not an acronym, as far as I know, so it really shouldn't be... Perhaps they just need to reassure themselves of their own importance since they seem to get beaten back by Team Cap at every turn? Ha.
> 
> Finally, since it's been brought up, I figured I'd let everyone know: I plan to update this fic once every week or two from here on out. I DO have other projects in the works, though, so please bear with me if I fall behind. Thanks everybody!

_Never again._

 

Every fiber – every **cell** – of his body screamed in defiance against what his instincts told him was coming next... What always came immediately after being thawed.

 

Never again would he allow those sick animals in lab coats to open him up, take out the bits that made him a _person_ , and replace them with the poisonous lies that turned him into the mindless _thing_ that killed people. Not now that he actually remembered...

 

_NEVER AGAIN._

 

His muscles tensed as warmth flowed back through him. Adrenaline was already blazing a fiery trail along his nerves as his body primed itself to go down fighting. He heard the pod open with a quiet hiss and opened his eyes to a dimly lit room that he had no memory of. Before he could even attempt to properly orient himself, the chaos of his surroundings finally registered.

 

A desperate scream. The gut-wrenching blows of fist on flesh... These were intimately familiar sounds to the Winter Soldier. So familiar, that he found himself reacting to the violence almost without thought. _(Never again.)_

 

The two scientists were, in fact, sporting white lab coats. One appeared to be physically assaulting the other, and his deeply conditioned mind registered the aggressor as the more immediate threat. In response, he made to reach out and snap the man's neck in one efficient move... only to realize that his left arm was completely cut off at the shoulder.

 

Immediate shock and profound relief surged through him in almost equal measure. The reviled metal limb he needed to get himself out of this situation, was gone.

 

He fell back on his training, promptly shoving the alarm to the back of his mind until it was a dulled, distant thing. First thing, first. He needed to neutralize the threat and shock would only slow him down. Escape was his first priority. _(neveragain.)_

 

The scientists were too busy struggling with each other to notice him come up from behind, legs dragging a bit as the muscles re-familiarized themselves with movement. Judging that he wouldn't have enough leverage to do anything to the man's shoulder with only one arm, his hand fastened itself in a tight grip around the assailant's forearm, instead. Through some quick, careful maneuvering, he jerked back on it – using his feet as leverage – and twisted until he heard the elbow dislocate with a satisfying sound somewhere between a crack and a pop.

 

The man cried out sharply and to prevent him from alerting any others, he swiftly crushed the assailant's windpipe. His eyes bugged grotesquely as he expressed what was likely surprise at finding the Winter Soldier already on his feet.

 

James Buchanan Barnes shifted his attention to the room's remaining occupant, shoving the incapacitated man aside. His body moved without thought and in two short strides, he had her suspended in the air, helpless before him.

 

For a moment, he was absolutely prepared to kill the woman if it meant his freedom. Escape was the priority objective, and the Winter Soldier allowed _nothing_ to get in the way of completing his objectives.

 

A prickle of doubt clouded that last thought, for it sounded... wrong in his head somehow. Which thoughts were his and which were HYDRA's?

 

The momentary distraction was really what saved the woman's life. In that second of hesitation, he took in her appearance fully for the first time and was confronted with the very obvious knowledge that she was not – **could** **not** possibly be – a HYDRA agent.

 

Her skin was clammy with sweat, slightly swollen where she'd taken a punch across the delicate ridge of one cheekbone, and very unmistakably _black_. HYDRA only recruited Aryan races, as far as he knew, which meant...

 

What? Who was this woman? Where was he?

 

His fist clenched even more tightly against the fabric of her blouse in confusion. She hadn't tried to defend herself or struggle, despite the fact that her heeled shoes could have done some damage to him if she'd taken advantage of his hesitation. Not much, but she didn't know that.

 

Instead, she was watching his face intensely, feet dangling in the air. When he met her gaze, she opened her mouth to speak for the first time.

 

She spoke, and her voice struck him with a sense that he knew it somehow... He recognized the dulcet, calming tones, though he was fairly certain he'd never seen her face before in his life. The half-remembered feeling finally uncoiled his muscles enough that her toes gently touched down on the linoleum beneath their feet.

 

“Say that again.” He meant to ask it like a question, but the words came out a demand. Her voice seemed familiar, but he knew enough about his own mental state that he didn't trust the feeling entirely.

 

He'd been hunted so long... She could still be dangerous.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, it's okay... My name's Xolani. I work as a nurse practitioner here. Do you know where we are?” Years of practice, if nothing else, kept her voice calm and even as she addressed the obviously disoriented man.

 

Seeing him behind glass was one thing, but the living, breathing presence in front of her would have made a powerful first impression even **without** the casual violence. At the sound of her voice, he loosened up a bit and allowed her to stand properly on her own two feet.

 

She looked him over clinically as much as she could without moving too much.

 

He was broad across the shoulders, with well-defined muscles, and although his medical file clearly listed him as 6 feet tall, she hadn't expected him to tower over her so completely, in person. At her bang-on average height of 5'5”, she had to crane her neck backward to look him in the eye.

 

She kept her tone light and conversational to try and draw some tension out of the situation. She asked one question to provide him a point to focus on, while purposely using “we” to subtly group herself with him. Convincing him of her trustworthiness and willingness to help was paramount.

 

“Say that again.” Dear lord, under different circumstances, that voice of his might have... Well, it was hardly the time for such thoughts.

 

“Sure,” she agreed, holding herself very still to remain as non-threatening as possible. “I'm Xolani and I work here as a nurse practitioner. You haven't been here very long, and I woke you pretty suddenly out of cryo-sleep, so that might be why you're disoriented.”

 

He listened, visibly chewing over her words. His arm relaxed another fraction, but he still refused to let go completely. Xolani suspected only part of it was in defense... The other part might be an attempt to keep himself anchored amid the confused memories he was surely trying to put together.

 

“You... woke me?” The question sounded darkly skeptical, and Xolani bit back the wounded, self-righteous “of course” response on the tip of her tongue.

 

“Yes. That man over there was trying to shut down your pod's life-support functions, so I stopped him.”

 

“Why?”

 

She drew a breath, before answering in the same neutral, straight-forward manner as before.

 

“If you're asking why I saved you, the answer's simple: I saw him try to kill you. I'd be morally obligated to try saving you even if you weren't one of my patients. Which you are, by the way.” She paused for breath. “And if you're asking why he attacked us in the first place... I don't know for sure, but I think it might have to do with you being the Winter Soldier.”

 

She purposely avoided mentioning the assassination of King T'Chaka since it was all tied up in public versus classified information. Too much to try explaining right then.

 

“How did I get here?”

 

“This is the N'yongo Medical Facility in Wakanda. Your friend, Steve, brought you here, thinking you'd be safe from HYDRA.”

 

Recognition finally filtered through those icy eyes, warming them at the reminder of his best friend.

 

“Steve? Is he here?” Xolani bit her lip, unsure whether or not the truth would upset him.

 

Taking a risk, she ran her hands gently over the back of his still-clenched fist. Out of startled reflex, he quickly let her go and she felt there was enough distance between them now to safely answer his question.

 

“He's not. He and the other Avengers are out of country on some kind of secret mission, I think.” She shrugged somewhat helplessly at his darkening expression. “I don't exactly have the clearance to know those kinds of things... but I **can** tell you that I was brought on to help you get better, and we can't do that here, obviously.”

 

James' eyebrow rose, and Xolani had to forcefully remind herself that there was absolutely nothing sexy enough to distract her from the situation at hand.

 

“You're going to help me get out of here, then?”

 

Instead of answering, she grabbed her purse from the nearby console and dug out her car keys.

 

“I'm parked out front in the employee lot. Think you can get us there without killing anyone on the way?”

 

James smirked, and her heart honest-to-god _skipped_. Not good.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a challenge to get them both out of the complex with only one good arm, but they managed to hide from the wave of intruders who stormed the room a few minutes later. It was a simple matter to drag the now-unconscious attacker from before, out in the middle of the room as a distraction. The handful of staff who came to investigate immediately fell to saving the man's crushed windpipe, allowing him and the girl to slip out behind them unseen.

 

From there, it was a relatively quick trek to the employee parking lot. A bit anticlimactic, to be sure, as he'd been expecting a betrayal, or a whole squad of well-trained HYDRA assassins to head them off at the facility's entrance.

 

“This is it,” the girl – Xolani? – announced, motioning for him to climb into the passenger's side of a dark blue hatchback.

 

He obliged, still not entirely comfortable trusting this girl, especially in his vulnerable one-armed state. There wasn't much choice, though, and he couldn't deny that her swollen jaw was pretty convincing evidence that whoever was after him might be after her too.

 

“You're shaking,” he noticed, breaking the tense silence after they pulled out of the parking lot and got on the main road.

 

Xolani looked down at her hands on the steering wheel in obvious surprise.

 

“Yeah, sorry. I guess the adrenaline's worn off.”

 

He wasn't sure why she felt the need to apologize, but let the matter drop. For a piece-of-fluff civilian, she was actually handling the situation pretty well. He felt a stirring of respect, before shifting his gaze to the view outside his window.

 

Wakanda was truly a technological miracle, from what he saw on the inside. But on the outside, the city was a stunning and unique landscape, blending wild, untamed nature with civilization. It was practically something straight out of science fiction.

 

“Amazing, isn't it? The first time I saw the giant panther statue, I nearly peed my pants.”

 

He couldn't help a short exhalation of laughter at the crude expression. He still wasn't used to all the strange figures of speech from this time period.

 

About fifteen minutes later, she pulled her car up to a small, mid-rise apartment complex.

 

“I'm on the second floor.”

 

* * *

 

After the crippling embarrassment of her poorly-thought-out comment in the car, Xolani was ready to kick off her shoes, retreat to her bedroom, and bury her head under her pillow for the rest of the night. She blamed the word vomit on lack of sleep.

 

“Make yourself at home,” she offered instead, dropping her keys on the coffee table and throwing the deadbolt on the door. She also shrugged out of her lab coat, hanging it next to her.

 

Rather than take her up on the suggestion, James promptly set about wandering through the apartment, taking in all possible entry points and securing them.

 

“That's my room,” she protested halfheartedly, as she saw him push past the closed door without hesitating.

 

_Meh, I guess my continued embarrassment is a small price to pay if it keeps us safe tonight._

 

Her thoughts sounded sullen, even in her own mind.

 

“Oh!” Her exclamation had James charging back into the living room, hackles raised and body tensed for a fight. She gave him a sheepish smile of apology. “Sorry, I just remembered the number they gave me for emergencies when I got the job.”

 

His breath huffed out, but he made no other sign of irritation.

 

“Is there someone you trust enough to contact about this?” He ran his hand back through his hair and gave her a pointed look.

 

“Well, I don't know about trust... but since it's a number they only gave out to members of your medical team, I'm guessing it'll lead to someone fairly high-up.” She gave a shrug. “And if they're corrupted at **that** level, then we're better off finding out sooner rather than later, right?”

 

Xolani slowly dialed the number, not missing the fact that James simply shuffled back into the other room, doubtlessly continuing to check the perimeter.

 

The rings on the other end of the line went on for several beats before a gruff, masculine voice asked that she leave a message.

 

“Ah, my name is Xolani Eze and I'm calling about an incident at the medical center earlier this evening. I... I'm not sure what I can safely say over this recorded line, but I assure you it's urgent.” She paused. “Please, I don't know who this is, but... we really need help. _Please_.”

 

Some of her desperation bled into her voice and to her horror, Xo felt her eyes begin to water. She hung up quickly before she could cry on the recording. Of course, James chose that moment to reappear.

 

His expression when he saw her tears was the most human she'd seen from him yet. It was the type of face someone with severe food poisoning might make. Luckily, he was spared from having to offer her comfort.

 

Her phone began to ring and she used the distraction to collect herself, swiping angrily at her eyes before answering.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Am I speaking to Miss Eze?”

 

She nearly dropped her phone in shock at the sound of the deep, masculine voice on the other end of the line.

 

* * *

 

 

What did one do with oneself after speaking to the King of Wakanda?

 

“Coffee,” she grunted, answering her own question and too tired to care about how odd she must sound at this point.

 

“Coffee?”

 

“Yeah, do you want some?”

 

James nodded. She'd already explained the Black Panther's orders to him, brief as they were. Being told to sit and wait for backup was hardly even worth relaying, but she welcomed any excuse to fill the awkward silence that had descended over the pair of them. In fact, she was currently wishing that the coffee-making process was louder and involved more work to keep her hands busy. Sadly, her pot was of the high-tech, one-button-and-it's-done variety.

 

Mentally sighing and reminding herself that talking to him was part of her **job** , she figured that she might as well make an effort to build some rapport while the java was brewing.

 

She resumed her seat on the couch, noting that he seemed to be more comfortable standing with his back to the far wall – where he had a good view of all possible exits. It was a habit she was familiar with from all of the military service members she'd worked with on their PTSD. She caught his gaze and offered him a small, tired smile. She consciously kept her body language relaxed by tucking the side of her face against the palm of one hand.

 

This had the unexpected side-effect of bumping her rapidly deepening bruise. At her wince, James silently made for her kitchen, grabbed some ice out of the freezer and wrapped it in a clean dish towel for her to use as a cold compress.

 

“Thanks,” she responded, pleasantly surprised by the gesture. He nodded a bit stiffly and Xolani was reminded of the _other_ unsolicited kindness she'd received that day.

 

“I guess we can now say for sure that you're not safe in Wakanda,” she started, pressing the compress to her cheek. “To be honest with you, I was hearing weird things from people in the facility all week. It's why I was in the room with you tonight, even though my shift was over.”

 

Xo wished she could tell what he was thinking, but he kept his face carefully impassive.

 

“I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen to you if I left you alone.”

 

He didn't state the obvious, which was that her presence hadn't really prevented the bad things from happening. Although, she supposed it could have easily been much worse. His silence was beginning to make her nervous, so she cleared her throat authoritatively and met his gaze with another short smile.

 

“I guess while we're on the subject, I should apologize to you on behalf of my countrymen. They tried to kill you on top of everything else you've been through, and while they're technically more my mother's people than mine, I still--”

 

“Stop.” The request was quiet, but firm, and Xolani immediately closed her mouth, waiting eagerly to hear what he'd say. “You shouldn't take responsibility... for the actions of anyone other than yourself. No one should.”

 

The weight of his words was so darkly profound that she actually stopped breathing for a moment, afraid to diminish it.

 

The reassurance wasn't for her. _It's for him_ , she realized. _He's reassuring himself..._

 

Her heart broke a little bit to see the way he held his arm tightly against his chest. To a casual observer, it might have looked like he was simply trying to cross his arms comfortably with one of them missing. To her completely biased eye, it looked more like he was desperately trying to hold himself together; like the reminder of his past caused him real, physical pain...

 

She decided that the best thing to do would be to give him a moment of privacy to collect himself. That's what she knew _she_ would have wanted in his place.

 

Thankfully, the coffee was done. She got up to serve, but couldn't help shooting one last comment over her shoulder.

 

“I'd never thought about it that way before, but I think you're right. Thank you for saying that, James. ”

 

Her back turned to the living room, she took her time carefully pouring coffee into matching mugs and setting them on her flowery tea tray with sugar, cream, and spoons. James accepted his with a frown, though his more relaxed body language expressed his appreciation for the beverage eloquently.

 

“Did I hurt you?”

 

The question startled her enough that she spilled cream on her pants. She cursed as the liquid joined the coffee stains still marking her hems from earlier. Those would be an awful pain to get out.

 

“Sorry. Say that again?”

 

“Did. I. Hurt. You?” He enunciated each word clearly, something like anger seeping into his tone, though she suspected it wasn't aimed at her. At least, she answered as if it was not.

 

“No. Other than my blouse getting a little stretched out, I'm fine.”

 

“Good,” he paused, conflict darkening his expression even further. “I... It would have been hard to forgive myself if I'd hurt you after everything you did for me...”

 

Xolani shrugged, trying to define the sudden surge of warmth she felt at his statement before chalking it up to her sleep-deprived body reacting giddily to its first taste of caffeine.

 

“Anyone else who knew the truth would have done the same.”

 

James gave his head a single adamant shake.

 

“No. They wouldn't have, but that's not what I meant.” He looked down at the coffee mug in his hand for a minute before taking a long drink. Apparently he liked it black. “You... were with me at other times too, weren't you?”

 

Xolani felt the back of her neck heat uncomfortably. She distracted herself with a quick sip and mentally thanked her parents for passing on their darker-skinned genes.

 

“I mean,” she struggled slightly for an appropriate response. “I spent some time in the lab, yes, but so did a lot of other people. I **did** say I was one of your doctors, after all.”

 

“Do mental-health specialists usually spend so much time around patients who can't talk?”

 

Damn him. The question was so spot on! How could he possibly have known--

 

“How do you know if I was there or not?” she demanded, tone getting defensive against her will.

 

He paused, as if unsure of the answer himself. Visibly searching for the right words, he looked up, and for the first time, sought out Xolani's eyes with his own. She had initiated all eye contact between them up until this point, and she felt keenly aware of that fact as his gaze sent a sharp jolt down her spine.

 

“I think it's your voice. I recognized it after I woke up and I'm pretty sure we never met before.”

 

Xolani leaned forward in her seat, fascinated. This could be an explanation to his seemingly random heart palpitations, but everyone she spoke to had assured her the cryogenic pods were completely soundproofed and otherwise impregnable.

 

“Is that really possible? Were you aware of things that were happening outside of your pod?”

 

“Not... always, I don't think. I only remember fragments, and nothing about them is clear. No words or anything. But every once in a while, it was like a voice – yours, I guess – would slip through in-between dreams. I didn't understand it, but it was...”

 

He trailed off, and Xolani struggled against her desire to press him into finishing the thought.

 

_Maybe the super soldier serum enhanced his hearing enough to detect sound through the pod_ , she thought, trying to distract herself from the fact that her blush was now surely bright enough that it was visible even against her dark skin. The way he looked at her so carefully – eyes roving over her features and lingering on the bruise swelling her cheek – didn't help at all.

 

“A comfort,” he said, finally looking away. The eye contact had been too much for him. Before he closed himself off completely, he reiterated at a much quieter volume. “You were a comfort...”

 

 


	4. Cover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long author's note incoming:
> 
> So last night I went back and re-watched the first two Captain America films to re-familiarize myself with Bucky's story arc... Anyone else feel their hearts warm a little at the glimpses of Sergeant Barnes that peak through during “Civil War?”
> 
> He's still not the same, obviously. In fact, I feel like in some ways, he ended CA: CW taking a step back as he's confronted with the things he did and is forced to answer for some of them. At the end of “Winter Soldier,” his first instinct upon getting away from HYDRA is to hide, protect and build a new life for himself which shows how far the character has come by the end of “Civil War” when he decides to sacrifice his own happiness to protect others. 
> 
> I kind of got the sense that this decision was made, in part, to punish himself for the Winter Soldier's crimes. When you take into account how getting frozen repeatedly is something he would have to associate with HYDRA, and the defeatist tone of voice he uses to explain his reasoning to Steve, AND how he doesn't even bother to come up with another solution, I feel like there is definitely some self-flagellating stuff going on in his head. I'm sure Bucky knows empirically that he's not really responsible for the things he did under HYDRA's brainwashing, but as he says to Steve, he DID do them. 
> 
> But that's just my amateur analysis... Just trying to explain where I see Bucky's character right now, and why I'm choosing to write him this way. Whether you agree or disagree, I'd love to hear your thoughts in a review!
> 
> Finally, I've written this chapter a little longer than my usual fare to make up for the fact that it's late. Sorry that it's mostly exposition! This will be a busy week in RL, so please forgive me if the next one runs late as well... I'll get it done as soon as possible! Enjoy!

_She's nervous._ Bucky was no expert on body language. As a ghost assassin whose job involved almost no contact with anyone who wasn't a target or handler, he had never needed to be...

 

But he **had** been trained as a sniper both before and after his brainwashing, so he was used to spotting small movements, if nothing else.

 

In the stillness of her apartment, with nothing else to focus on, he caught every uncomfortable shift she made on the sofa. Though, if he were completely honest with himself, he'd admit that he wasn't feeling all that calm either.

 

Trust was not something that came easily to him.

 

He'd gone from living completely under the power of Hydra, to leading a solitary life on the run from them. At no time over the last sixty years had he ever had the luxury of forming relationships – or even acquaintances – with anyone. He couldn't even refer to his memories from the time before, as they were still muddied and scattered like so many leaves. The only parts he remembered with any clarity were those involving Steve.

 

Bucky found himself wishing, once again, that his former best friend were there with him. At least with Steve around, he could pretend to handle being in close quarters with another person. He was pretty sure the past few hours marked the longest period of time he'd ever been alone with someone without trying to kill them.

 

That didn't mean the tension wasn't wearing on him, however. As much as he hated the damn thing, he felt weak and vulnerable without his metal arm. That, combined with being in such a confined space with some girl he'd just met made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

 

He needed a distraction. Anything to get his mind off the sudden instinct to run... To get out of there and put as much distance as possible between himself and whoever still wanted him dead.

 

Purposely casting around for another train of thought, he suddenly wondered if her ribs were hurting her. He recalled that her attacker had landed a hard kick on them back at the facility, but so far she didn't seem to be suffering too badly from them.

 

“You should ice those.”

 

She startled easily, jumping at the sound of his voice before squinting at him in confusion.

 

“Your ribs,” he clarified. “If they're bruised, you should ice them.”

 

She raised a finely arched brow, making it clear what she thought of receiving medical advice from a one-armed former terrorist. After a pause, however, she obligingly shifted her ice pack to the center of her torso.

 

The girl didn't say anything, but he watched as her posture slowly grew more relaxed under the cool, numbing effect of the ice.

 

She made for a rather rumpled figure. Her khaki slacks were stained badly from the knees down and his manhandling from earlier had stretched the front of her burgundy button-up to the point where it hung loosely off her frame. Her hair was in disarray, but he found himself looking over the long tangle of braids with interest.

 

He'd noticed a handful of women wearing their hair this way, but only in passing, and only within the last year or so. There were probably at least a hundred of the tiny braids laying in waves across her shoulders and back. As he watched, she distractedly swept them back to one side, giving her neck a tired stretch.

 

He looked away, feeling oddly embarrassed.

 

A few more minutes went by in similar silence until a loud knock came from the front door. His slightly enhanced sense of hearing had picked up the sound of shoes scuffing outside shortly before the knock, so he was at least spared the indignity of jumping a foot in the air like the girl.

 

She gave him a slightly worried look before pulling her phone out and scanning it for something. When she finally made her way to the door, she didn't open it right away, instead reading off the screen in her hand.

 

“Er... Which way does the wind blow?” A beat followed before a strong, accented female voice spoke on the other side of the door.

 

“There is no wind in winter. Only snow.” Seemingly satisfied by this response, Xolani shot him a comforting smile before finally unlocking the deadbolt and inviting two rather tough-looking women inside. Both had striking, coffee-black complexions and wore matching women's business suits, despite the time of night. The one with the feminine buzzcut glanced over at Bucky, visibly sizing him up for a moment before her partner spoke.

 

“Miss Eze, you are well?” She had a heavy accent, but her English was understandable. She also made a point of keeping her tone bland. _A professional_ , he mentally noted.

 

“Yes, both of us are fine. We just weren't sure--”

 

“King T'Challa extends his apologies and will explain more once we reach the safe-house,” the woman, who wore her hair in a short mass of slicked curls, interrupted smoothly. “You have your things packed?”

 

“Uh, no, but that shouldn't take me more than a minute.”

 

“Hurry. We must get the two of you to safety.”

 

One of them stayed in the room with him while the other escorted Xolani to her bedroom, presumably to collect her belongings. He didn't miss the sharp wince she gave as she hauled herself off the couch, nor did he fail to notice her slightly slouched posture as she favored her ribs. Clearly, the pain had caught up to her.

 

As they ducked into the bedroom, Bucky turned his attention back to the remaining woman and tried not to scowl at the way she was sizing him up again. He didn't think it was a coincidence that she had positioned herself before the front door. Almost as if she thought he might bolt if given the chance.

 

He wished he knew for sure whether it was a simple precaution or if he was unknowingly about to trade in one type of cage for another...

 

* * *

 

Xolani tried not to gape at her surroundings too obviously. She stood for a moment, drinking in the breathtaking foyer of the Wakandan king's “safe-house” before hurrying to follow her guides, clutching her large gym bag so tightly that she felt pain flare once again along her ribs. She surreptitiously rubbed a hand against them, trying to soothe the ache as well as she could without slowing down.

 

Polished wooden banisters lead up into a well-lit parlor area with skylights that allowed the first rays of dawn to creep in. With a short gesture, one of the Wakandan women motioned for her to follow them past the room and up a long staircase to their left. Feeling a bit like an out-of-depth duckling, she obeyed, with James bringing up the rear behind her.

 

Xolani had been born into a family that was comfortably middle-class for most of her life. She hadn't even known financial difficulties really existed until she experienced them in college and even there, she had rubbed elbows with plenty of classmates and colleagues from wealthy backgrounds...

 

Yet she still found herself struggling to reconcile the opulence around her with the fact that the whole place was actually just a very well-decorated cave.

 

Very, **very** nicely decorated... but a cave, all the same.

 

The entire complex was dome-shaped and built into the side of a mountain with its main entrance being accessible only through a hidden cave system, of all things.

 

In short, unless you knew it was there, you'd never see it just by looking from the outside.

 

The house made up for its lack of windows with many strategically placed skylights and pleasing bits of reflective wall décor throughout. She wouldn't have minded being left on her own to explore under better circumstances, but when they finally reached the top of the landing, Xolani felt herself start to wheeze in pain. She closed her eyes for a minute and tried to focus on keeping her breaths just shallow enough so that her lungs stopped pressing so hard against the inside of her bruised rib cage.

 

When she opened them again, James shot her a probing look. It looked too close to disapproving for her comfort, though she wasn't sure why he seemed to think being injured was her fault. Avoiding his gaze, she took a quick second to admire the second floor, which was even more impressive than the first.

 

The open loft-style of the space allowed her to look down into most of the rest of the house, including a modern kitchen and living room.

 

The far wall was made up entirely of glass and revealed an elevated view of the natural grotto below. Its walls tapered to a wide opening that lead out to a shining body of water that Xo was sure would have to have been man-made; it looked so clear and perfect.

 

Finally, she turned her attention back to the inside of the room and noticed that a long conference table took up most of the open space. Seated at its head was none other than the Black Panther himself.

 

The young king smoothly rose from his seat as James came into view behind her. He opened his mouth, possibly to greet them, but James interrupted before he could speak.

 

“Miss Eze needs medical attention.”

 

T'Challa's eyebrows rose and he looked back at Xo in question. Embarrassed, she quickly spoke up for herself.

 

“I'm pretty sure my ribs are bruised, but its nothing a few ibuprofen and some bed rest won't cure.”

 

“Why are you still on your feet, if that's the case?”

 

She'd heard his voice over the phone, but his deep, velvety baritone was even more powerful in person. Xolani tried not to fidget. Besides, from the way he was addressing his female aides over her shoulder, she deduced the question was aimed more at them, anyway.

 

They looked like they were also fighting the urge to fidget and the one with the shaved head took it upon herself to answer.

 

“You wanted to speak to them both, my king.”

 

“I'm fine for another few minutes,” Xolani felt compelled to add, not liking how everyone in the room seemed to be treating her like a piece of baggage that needed to be accounted for. “I doubt I'd be able to rest properly without knowing what's going on... your highness.”

 

She tacked on the formal address a bit awkwardly, cringing as she glimpsed James giving her a weird look from the corner of her eye.

 

The side of T'Challa's mouth quirked in a small smile and he nodded at her graciously, folding his hands behind the back of his well-pressed suit.

 

“Fair enough, Miss Eze.” His smile dropped. “And for the record, I regret that your life was threatened while you were under my employ. The people responsible will be dealt with, I assure you.”

 

The timbre of his voice lowered darkly, and despite the fact that she wanted those involved to be punished, she couldn't help feeling just a little bit sorry for anyone who had to face the Black Panther's displeasure... As good as he looked in a three-piece suit, he was still borderline terrifying.

 

“As for you, my friend...” He straightened and leveled a smirk toward James. “How is it that you always seem to find yourself at odds with my country and its people?”

 

“Yeah, because I get along so well with everyone else...”

 

Xolani turned, surprised to see that James was actually capable of cracking jokes. He had a very small grin on his face; just a twist of the lips, really... but it completely transformed him. Instead of looking like a mildly attractive homeless man in need of a thorough shampooing, the smile elevated his scruffy good-looks to Harrison Ford or Viggo Mortenson status.

 

She wondered briefly what a shave and some clean clothing would do for him before shaking herself out of such thoughts. Obviously she needed a good night's sleep for more than just her wound's sake.

 

“I have contacted Captain Rogers and alerted him to your situation. He agreed with me that placing you back into cryogenic sleep is not an option at the moment.” James tensed at the king's words, but didn't argue. Regardless, T'Challa appeared to pick up on his displeasure and added pointedly, “At least outside of that pod you have a chance of defending yourself.”

 

“And who's going to defend everyone else from me if another little red book turns up?” James answered coolly. His face could have been carved from granite, for all the emotion it showed. “I could have seriously injured Miss Eze tonight, and she was actually trying to _help_ me.”

 

Xolani bit her lip anxiously.

 

“You didn't though,” she felt compelled to point out. “And just because freezing you is off the table doesn't mean we--”

 

She cut herself off, having almost spoken on behalf of the King of Wakanda. T'Challa simply lifted an amused eyebrow at her in response, however, and she felt brave enough to continue.

 

“It doesn't mean I can't still help you.”

 

His expressionless mask gave way to honest confusion. Instead of making eye contact, he stared at some point over her shoulder.

 

“How? The last time they sent a psychologist to talk to me, it didn't end too well,” he rasped, eyebrows furrowing. “For anyone.”

 

T'Challa cleared his throat, taking it upon himself to answer.

 

“The last time you were a prisoner, and you weren't under the personal protection of the Black Panther.” There was a casual arrogance to this statement, but Xolani couldn't help thinking it was kind of justified. From what she understood, the title of King was hereditary; wearing the mantle of the Panther was something that had to be _earned_. “Besides, Miss Eze appears to be in nearly as much danger as you. We might as well have her do the job we hired her for while she's here.”

 

Xolani chuckled a bit nervously.

 

“I don't know how much progress we'd make in a few days, but I'm certainly willing to try--”

 

Her words were cut off by a quick, decisive head shake from the Wakandan ruler.

 

“Not days, Miss Eze. Weeks, at least.” Her mouth dropped open slightly. “However long it takes to discover who these people are and how to deal with them.”

 

“But... my work and my... I mean, I have bills--”

 

“Your workplace has simply shifted, Miss Eze. You will continue to be paid. In fact, I think a raise is in order, considering the circumstances,” he topped off this announcement with a charming smile.

 

Dismayed at basically being placed under house arrest, Xo tried to look on the bright side. He'd all but confirmed that she was getting promoted, and being the personal therapist of the Winter Soldier _would_ look pretty fabulous on her resume, she had to admit... It would make getting a job back state-side so much easier when this was all over.

 

As for being stuck in what amounted to a very nice underground bunker, at least she'd brought all the necessities... including some creature comforts that she wouldn't have been able to do without over a long period. Her silk pillowcase, hair products, and comfy pajamas were all items that she'd waffled over before packing, so she thanked her lucky stars that she had them.

 

All in all, the situation could've been a lot worse. In fact, if not for the life-threatening aspects, she could almost consider it a vacation. The safe-house was very, very plush.

 

King T'Challa nodded as if the matter was completely settled and addressed his – aides? Bodyguards? – over her head.

 

“See to it that our guests are made comfortable. They have unrestricted access to all our facilities while they're here, and anything they need should be provided immediately,” he paused. “Also, pull the other mental health specialist we have on the Winter Soldier's medical staff and inform them that they will be working with him here at least once a week until the situation calms down.”

 

_Oh_. So she wasn't going to be the sole therapist working with James. _I mean, it makes sense. They don't put a lot of faith in NP's here, and I don't have that much experience. Obviously they aren't going to trust me to handle his entire case by myself._

 

She tried to tamp down the crushing disappointment she felt with the reminder that the most important thing was James getting the help he needed.

 

“Is that safe?” Xolani asked before she could stop herself. T'Challa's dark eyes swung around to meet hers and she stuttered over her next words. Damn, he was intense. “What if they're involved with... whoever attacked us? I mean, I've been hearing weird things around the complex for a while now, and I think that whoever they are, they genuinely believe they're helping Wakanda by getting rid of our man over here.”

 

She gestured toward James, who looked a little nonplussed at being referred to as “their man.”

 

There was a tense silence, and Xolani tried to stand firm despite the way the king's aides were staring her down. Maybe she shouldn't be questioning him, but she was tired, damn it, and she didn't think asking for some reassurance was out of line.

 

For his part, T'Challa pierced her with his gaze just a second longer before finally deigning to respond.

 

“I doubt the extremists who wanted him dead make up his personal medical team. They were all informed of the truth when they were hired, as you were. But,” he allowed. “Since you DO have a stake in this, tell me: is there anyone else on the staff that you trust to have Sergeant Barnes' best interests at heart?”

 

Xolani did not want to admit that she didn't really know anyone else on the medical team well enough to vouch for them, but he seemed to be fairly confident that they weren't corrupt, anyway. Clearly, he was just humoring her.

 

“Dr. Akerele,” she said finally. Of all the other doctors, Akerele was the one who had always been nicest to her and the one who most shared Xo's passion for helping her patients.

 

“Very well,” T'Challa answered graciously. “See that she's contacted as soon as possible.” The last was directed toward the nearest aide, who nodded swiftly.

 

“We will take care of it.”

 

“Good. Has the attacker from the medical facility been identified?”

 

“Yes, my king. He was easily apprehended and awaits your questioning.”

 

“And the other? The nurse?”

 

Xo flinched at the mention of Keita, remembering how, at the last minute, the other woman had tried to save her in her own way. She also wondered how they knew so many details about what happened. Did they have remote access to the security footage?

 

“She fled the building, but we have agents tracking her. We are hopeful that she might flush out some of her accomplices if we wait long enough.”

 

“Excellent. Let her think she got away. I want her calls and internet usage monitored closely, but otherwise leave her alone until we're done questioning the attacker.”

 

“What about security here?” The gruff question came from James, who had been content to quietly watch their exchanges up to this point.

 

“The two of you will have a retinue of my personal guards around the house 24 hours a day until this is resolved. I trust no others,” T'Challa replied, shortly. “They won't intrude on your personal space, but they will be monitoring everything in the house very closely.”

 

Xolani took that to mean they were probably under some kind of surveillance. The thought should have bothered her, but she really only felt relief that no one was going to be able to sneak in undetected. For the first time that night, she felt like sleep might actually be attainable.

 

She couldn't speak for James though, and if the tightened lips were any indication, he wasn't nearly as comforted by the extra security measures as she was. If anything, he looked even more wound up.

 

She wondered if, from his point of view, this just meant more people who's lives were at risk if something happened and he snapped again. Despite how tired and hurt she was, pity still managed to find a way to cause a lump in her throat.

 

The pain in her ribs reasserted itself and was starting to make regular breathing difficult enough as it was. She knew her body was nearing its limits. As if sensing this, James stepped forward and wordlessly took her gym bag in his remaining hand.

 

Too weary to protest, Xolani let him and one of the aides guide her back down the stairs. T'Challa said something as they left, but she didn't quite catch it.

 

Somehow, she made it all the way down to the first floor without tripping or leaning too much on anyone. Her breath was coming in painful bursts even from that small exertion, and the rest of the trip to her guest room was a blur. She was conscious of going down a softly lit hall and then opening a door to reveal an elegant four-poster bed.

 

Possibly there were other pieces of furniture there as well, but the bed was all she cared about.

 

The last thing she registered before her head hit a blessedly soft pillow, was a large, masculine hand fluffing pillows. It looked so funny she wanted to laugh, especially considering the methodical, efficient way it accomplished the task. Instead, her eyes slipped closed and she was out.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you,” the girl breathed, already on the cusp of passing out. He wanted to ignore her, or maybe remind her that elevating the head was necessary for easier breathing when you had a rib injury... Something she probably would have known without even thinking if she hadn't been dead on her feet.

 

Instead, he found himself answering her with a terse “you're welcome,” even after he knew she was beyond the point of hearing him.

 

It was stupid, but the quiet exchange made him feel just a little bit more human...

 

* * *

 

The next time Xolani woke, she had no idea what time it was. Thanks to the fact that there were no windows, she couldn't even make much of a guess, but she at least remembered enough of the day before that she wasn't alarmed to find herself in an unfamiliar room.

 

Her upper abdomen still hurt, though sleeping in a reclined position had helped a little. Cautiously, she hugged a pillow and used it to cushion herself before easing out of bed, one foot at a time. Someone had removed her socks and shoes, luckily.

 

She grit her teeth at the pain that screamed through her. Ibuprofen quickly bumped showering and eating down on her list of priorities as she shuffled toward the door that she assumed lead into an adjoining bathroom.

 

The toilet saw usage first and she was relieved to see that whoever had prepared the safe-house for their arrival had seen to it that the medicine cabinets were fully stocked with the basics.

 

She chased down two ibuprofen tablets with some faucet water before turning to the spacious shower stall on her left. Like everything else in this place, it looked like something out of a Home and Garden magazine. It had pretty, marble surfaces that matched the sink's counter-tops and clear, streak-free doors.

 

Finding her gym bag placed thoughtfully against the far wall, she rummaged through it until she found her hygiene supplies.

 

An awkward and painful shower commenced. While she normally took great care to keep her braids moisturized with hair products, lifting her arms involved too much painful motion to bother with. Instead, she settled for parting them gently at different points and allowing the water to run along her scalp, washing away any sweat and grime. Finishing up, she managed to avoid further injury thanks to the low shower ledge that doubled as a convenient seat.

 

Refreshed, Xolani shrugged into a button-up pajama top and matching pants before padding barefoot into the hall outside her room.

 

Warm interior lights lit up a path that seemed vaguely familiar, so she followed them until she reached the bottom of a staircase. Around the corner, she entered a dining area that opened out into the kitchen.

 

The prospect of food made her stomach rumble and reminded her that she needed to eat something right away to compensate for the medicine. Chopping anything seemed out of the question, though, so she settled on some bacon with toast and fried eggs.

 

As she spread slices of bacon in the pan, her thoughts turned back to the events of the previous day.

 

Maybe the full gravity of her situation hadn't hit her yet, but she really didn't feel all that shaken up about it. The possibility of getting mixed up in superhuman affairs had occurred to her when she'd first signed on, even if the actual likelihood of being _front-and-center_ to those affairs had seemed low at the time.

 

All in all, getting to be a part of something so big was kind of... exciting, now that no one was physically assaulting her. She'd always had something of a taste for adrenaline... To be perfectly honest, she was more upset about having to share credit for James' treatment with another doctor, even after everything she'd risked to get him out of there.

 

_Ugh. Listen to me: sharing him, like he's a toy or something... I'm a terrible fucking person._

 

“You need more rest.”

 

Xolani nearly dropped her spatula in fright. Seeing that it was only James, she let out her breath slowly, grimacing at the shock of pain that lanced through her ribs.

 

“Sorry,” he offered, taking a seat on a stool at the kitchen island.

 

His hair was still wet from showering, and he wore a clean black T-shirt over some tan cargo pants.

 

“You look good,” she commented lightly, turning back to the bacon and shifting them around. “Being clean works for you.”

 

He didn't respond. Xo glanced up to see if she'd offended him in some way, but he simply looked confused; like compliments were so foreign a concept that he didn't know _how_ to respond. Probably for the best, really. Just because they were stuck living in the same house for a while didn't mean she should let the professional barrier dissolve completely. He was still her patient, no matter what his chest muscles looked like in that shirt.

 

“You shouldn't be moving around so much.” Deciding to ignore the comment and return the conversation to more comfortable ground, James scowled at her a bit.

 

“Some movement is fine. Good even, as long as I don't move my torso too much.” She neglected to add that the torso contracted and moved almost any time the arms did. “Have you eaten anything yet? I can make more.”

 

Instead of answering, the former assassin got down from his stool and made his way over to the stove top range next to her.

 

“I'll do that.”

 

To her amazement, he reached right into the pan and flipped the bacon over with his bare fingers. The man didn't even flinch!

 

“Um... Okay, well I was going to make some eggs to go with it.”

 

“Don't move.” She froze from where she was trying to figure out how to bend over to reach the carton of eggs in the refrigerator.

 

He grabbed it with enviable ease considering his one arm and even managed to crack them into the mixing bowl on the counter. Xo watched as he added a touch of milk and started to whisk the mixture with a fork. Without even thinking about it, she took a step forward to help.

 

He flinched and threw a sharp look at her. His posture – which had been relatively calm and relaxed before – stiffened like a defensive animal. The whole picture screamed “Don't come any closer!”

 

“Sorry,” she apologized, softly. “I was just going to hold the bowl for you. That can't be easy with one hand.”

 

“It's been mixed enough,” he muttered, in lieu of accepting her apology. There was a note of shame in his tone that suggested he was embarrassed for over-reacting. For her part, Xo had been taken by surprise, but she didn't blame him. She knew it was nothing personal.

 

Honestly, she would have been more surprised if he _hadn't_ displayed some kind of negative reaction to her proximity, considering everything he'd been through. She'd been wondering when it would manifest again.

 

“You can cook,” she observed neutrally. When he didn't reply, except to furrow his brow a bit, she continued. “That might not seem impressive, but most guys I know can't boil water without setting their houses on fire.”

 

James carefully turned the burner off at her words. Had he moved with exaggerated purpose, or was she just imagining that? It _had_ been perfectly timed. Was he trying to be funny? Xolani had no idea, but she laughed a bit anyway. It felt good to laugh, even as her abdomen protested the movement.

 

He didn't do anything like chuckle along with her – or even smile, really – but his brow loosened up and his shoulders slouched comfortably as he plated their food. Xolani took that as a cue to probe a bit... gently, of course.

 

“Did you learn to cook when you were younger, or was it something you picked up later on in life?”

 

“I'm not sure,” he answered hesitantly. “I don't remember much from before...” He trailed off meaningfully.

 

“That must be hard,” she sympathized. She couldn't even imagine how confusing day-to-day life must be for him. While her instinct was to ask him what exactly he _did_ remember, she didn't want to push him too much when they were still just getting to know each other.

 

He brought her plate to the kitchen island, but she picked it up and made her way to a low couch in the living room instead. It was easier to sit on than those high stools.

 

To her pleasant surprise, he joined her a moment later, his own meal in hand. The idea that he might want some company was encouraging and not at all unwelcome. She grinned up at him as he sat in a nearby armchair.

 

She took a small bite.

 

“Good?”

 

“Very. Thank you.” He gave a self-conscious little shrug before turning his attention to his own meal. They spent a few minutes eating in silence.

 

“I do remember Steve.”

 

Xolani's head jerked up so sharply at the sound of his voice that she nearly sent herself into a coughing fit. Elation and triumph filled her at the knowledge that he was actually reaching out and opening up to her, even in this small way. For him to be doing so already was a very, very good sign. _It sounds like he's been wanting to talk about this to someone for a while_.

 

With great effort, she reigned in the huge smile that threatened to overtake her face.

 

“That makes sense. He was your best friend, right?”

 

His nod was slow in coming, but it was decisive when it did. No surprise there, considering everything the Avenger did for him over the previous year.

 

“Will you tell me about him?” she asked, ready to take no for an answer. He shocked both of them by shyly launching into a story about the boy with newspapers on his shoes...

 


	5. Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, some of your guys' comments crack me up. I know I've been gone for a bit (er, a very long bit), and I'll continue posting somewhat sporadically for the foreseeable future. I've got a commercial visual novel project in the works, and that has been taking precedence over my other writing... Links are in my author profile if you'd like to learn more about it! The genre is medieval fantasy and there's a playable demo available now. 
> 
> Note: In case it's been confusing to some people in the previous chapters, Xolani calls Bucky “James” when she thinks about him in her head, as she would have no way of knowing his nickname at this point, but in scenes from Bucky's POV, he will always refer to himself as Bucky.
> 
> Apologies again for the lateness of this installment! Hope you guys still enjoy!

“ _You_? They called you?!”

 

Okafor lifted his eyebrows at her incredulous outburst.

 

“As the lead physician on the Winter Soldier's medical team, I was the logical choice to call in... To take care of him _and_ you, reckless thing that you are.” With a firm but gentle hand, he guided her back into a supported position against the headboard of her bed. His gaze was professional when he moved from there to lift the edge of her shirt, affording himself a better view of her injuries.

 

Xolani tried to resist, but quickly relented at the shock of pure agony that speared through her in response.

 

“Stubborn woman,” he scolded darkly, even while patiently removing his hands from her person. “What exactly has you twisting your broken ribs in knots to get away from me?”

 

“Those things you said,” she panted, still gasping in pain. “You knew--”

 

“I knew _something_ was being whispered around the hospital, yes,” he admitted, sending Xolani's thoughts spiraling into confusion. She hadn't been expecting him to be so upfront about it. “Different members of the staff were making negative comments about the Winter Soldier leading up to the... attack.”

 

“Just admit that you were in on it!” She almost shouted, wondering wildly how long it would take the Wakandan security team to storm her room in the safe-house, guns blazing. Minutes? Seconds? “The last thing you said to me about not wanting me hurt--!”

 

“I said nothing of the kind,” he interrupted sternly. Xolani finally relented enough to allow him to examine her torso, more out of surprise than anything. “I was simply concerned that you were getting too emotionally invested in your patient. I had no idea they would try to harm either of you; I only thought that once they realized how much time you'd suddenly started spending with him – doting on him, really – that you'd become the target of their hateful words next.”

 

He brushed his hands lightly over the skin above her rib-cage, feeling expertly for any signs that her ribs might be out of alignment. It hurt like hell – especially when he briefly applied some pressure in the middle – but when he'd finished, at least she knew that they were only bruised like she'd initially concluded.

 

“Believe me,” he continued, lowering the shirt back down softly, as if in apology for hurting her. “If I had thought for even a moment that you were in danger of actual, physical harm, I would have dragged you out of there _that day_.”

 

“And you would have gotten a busted lip for your trouble,” she growled, glaring. “In fact, none of this was any of your business in the first place.”

 

Dr. Okafor smiled in a way that, a week ago, Xo would have found somewhat charming.

 

“Well, I _did_ realize that, in the end. Though I would have felt terrible for respecting your independence if you had died because I didn't say anything...”

 

He trailed off, and Xolani wasn't sure how she felt about this new piece of information. On the one hand, Okafor had never been shy about voicing his opinion with regards to James. Even now, she wasn't entirely convinced that he had her patient's best interests at heart as a medical professional.

 

But then... he had to have satisfied the Wakandan security team's screening process to be allowed access to the safe-house, right? She was also fairly confident that he liked her... At least enough that she believed him when he said he wouldn't have let her come to harm if he'd thought she was in danger.

 

Was she being too gullible and naive in believing that?

 

She wasn't sure what to think.

 

“I would feel better if we could take a few chest X-rays, at least, but from what I can tell, there are no protrusions or anything else to be concerned about, aside from some swelling. Have you been icing the area?”

 

“... A little,” she answered, grudgingly. To be honest, if James hadn't reminded her to ice them the previous night, she might not have thought about it at all. The old adage about doctors – or in this case, nurses – making the worst patients was embarrassingly true in her case.

 

He frowned, but didn't look surprised.

 

“Ice them on-and-off for the rest of today and tomorrow. Do you have anything for the pain?”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

“All right then.” He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jacket and flipped through a few recent messages. It was more than a little strange to see him without a white lab coat on, but she figured he had been asked to change before coming over. No need to advertise the fact that he was making a house call, after all. “I'm needed downstairs. Stay up here on bed-rest for at least two days, preferably four. If you get cabin fever and absolutely HAVE to leave your room, please take it easy and have someone with you at all times in case of accidental injury or exhaustion.”

 

“Wouldn't it be better for me to walk around if I feel up to it, Doctor?” She asked, trying to reign in her stubbornness and not quite succeeding. “Sitting in one position too long won't speed up my recovery, will it?”  
  


“Just stay in bed for a few days, Eze. You've got a nice, big TV right in front of you here.” She did. “It shouldn't be too difficult for you to find a good movie to watch, and take a nap afterward. That's a whole day gone right there...”

 

“Fine, fine...” she agreed, privately thinking that if she couldn't find anything worth watching, she'd just go downstairs and find some company _after_ her pesky colleague made himself scarce. “What do they need you for down there?”

 

“Well, King T'Challa wants the Winter Soldier to have a clean bill of health before he lets the engineers at him.” At her confused look, he elaborated, sounding somewhat sour. “His arm. From what I overheard, the King is commissioning a whole arm made of vibranium to replace the one he lost.”

 

The fact that he considered such a thing a waste of their most precious natural resource went unsaid, though Xo picked up on it easily enough. He rose gracefully on his feet to leave, before pausing and turning around in the doorway.

 

“I'll be back in a few days to check on you, Eze. Try to stay out of trouble until then, will you?”

 

Feeling a hint of their old camaraderie come back in spite of the fact that she still wasn't sure she trusted him, Xolani smirked in his direction playfully.

 

“I make no promises.”

 

He chuckled a bit as he swung her bedroom door shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

Nearly four whole days went by and she still hadn't seen James for more than a few minutes.

 

If she was lucky, he might pop into the kitchen while she tried to cook meals for herself and join her in the mundane activity for a while, but he kept mostly silent the whole time, seemingly content just to lift things and stir for her when she started struggling.

 

James clearly loved himself a good monosyllable – and try as she might – her efforts to get him to open up to her again were proving futile.

 

“How do you like it here, James?”

 

“It's fine.”

 

“How are you feeling today?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Oh, you can call me Xolani, if you want. We should know each other's first names if we're going to be living together for a while...”

 

“Fine...”

 

“What would you like me to call you?”

 

Shrug.

 

She gave into the silence at that point, knowing that it was useless to push until he was ready.

 

What made it worse was that King T'Challa had officially reinstated Dr. Akerele as his chief mental health therapist and although she had begun having sessions with the silent former assassin, she hadn't yet consulted with Xo or tried to speak with her at all, regarding the situation.

 

When she found the older female doctor in the conference room on her off-hours and confronted her about it, Akerele looked at her with a sympathetic wince.

 

“I was dreading this conversation,” she sighed. “The Winter Soldier's case is... unusual, Eze. It's being handled without the oversight of the medical review board for the moment, due to national security reasons, but even the King wasn't able to hide your involvement.... and they weren't pleased, to put it bluntly, dear.”

 

To hear this confirmation of the hospital's complete lack of faith in her abilities... well, it hurt. Still, Xo tried to remind herself that it was nothing personal. Most of the board members had never even met her, after all.

 

“So they don't want me dipping my fingers anywhere near his case, is what you're saying?”

 

Dr. Akerele cocked her head slightly to the side and grimaced in a way that clearly implied she thought the situation plenty ridiculous herself. Unlike many other staff members on the medical board, she had spent time working in countries outside of Wakanda and knew firsthand that Nurse-Practitioners could be every bit as competent and good at their jobs as doctors. Her experiences abroad were a big part of why she'd been assigned to James.

 

“I'm saying that if you want to help him, you can, but be prepared to meet some resistance from the Board if – and when – they find out.”

 

“I don't understand,” Xo replied, flatly. “Why add me to the medical team at all if the idea of my involvement is so unwanted?”

 

At the question, the older woman looked more uncomfortable than ever. Her gray curls bounced with the movement of her shoulders shrugging.

 

“Frankly, I think you were hired on because no one thought the situation would become this tenuous... You're American, which gave you a desirable commonality with the patient, and you were conveniently _here_ already; meaning that the King didn't have to worry about leaking his location to any unnecessary outside parties. That would have been grounds enough to keep you on, in a safe, controlled environment... The only reason you're even _this_ involved now--”

 

“-- is because I was stupid enough to get swept up in it all. Yes, I understand now. Thank you, Doctor.” Xolani turned to go, feeling bitter and angry, but still not wanting to take out her frustrations on her colleague. ' _Superior_ ,' her mind hissed.

 

“Xolani, wait,” Dr. Akerele called before she could exit the conference room where they'd been talking. Xo thought about not stopping; marching out and shutting the door behind her in a fit of drama, but then... No. That was way too rude. If there was one thing her mama had always drilled into her, it was respect for her elders. She turned around and politely gave the doctor her attention, even though the blow to her pride still stung.

 

“Doctors don't take the Hippocratic Oath in Wakanda, but we do recognize the worthy aspiration of its words.”

 

“'First do no harm?'” Xo questioned, a bit confused at this sudden turn in the conversation. Akerele made a clucking sound with her teeth, but smiled in a fond way to make the NP feel less like a child being scolded.

 

“No, dear. ' _I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures which are required..._ '”

 

Xolani's eyes opened with shock and she felt uncomfortably humbled by the reminder. Feebly, she tried to protest.

 

“But... but if he's not my patient...”

 

“He never stopped being your patient, Nurse. I believe I even openly invited you to work with him... though I did neglect to mention that in doing so, you'd also be inherently agreeing to work together with **me**.” She smiled, and Xolani became acutely aware, all at once, of how unprofessional she was being... making this situation all about her, when it should have been about _James_ , and what he needed, all along. As if following her train of thought, Akerele gently went on:

 

“' _I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug..._ ' You might not have official sanction, but you don't really need it to talk to our patient, listen to him, and support him, do you?”

 

“No,” Xo practically whispered, grimacing at herself because she knew that she'd probably always have this chip on her shoulder about being a nurse-practitioner, and it would probably lead to more situations like this in the future; situations where her determination to prove herself might overshadow her concern for her patient... She just hoped that the next time it happened, she'd have someone like Akerele to point her back down the right path. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, meaning it this time.

 

“Just leave the prescriptions to me, and we'll work together on everything else, Xolani, I promise,” the doctor said, smiling gently. “You're not untalented. In fact, I've been meaning to ask you if you've had any luck establishing a connection with the man. He's been very introverted and reluctant to share in my first two sessions with him – which is to be expected, really – but the two of you have shared at least one significant moment together, right?”

 

“He agreed to tell me about some of his past memories with Steve Rogers once. There was nothing directly related to his trauma there, but he _was_ a willing participant in the conversation,” Xolani said, feeling that she ought to be forthcoming to make up for her earlier behavior. “We also socialize in a domestic way, and he's been – if not talkative – then at least _sociable_ in a non-verbal way...”

 

“What kind of friendly, non-verbal cues has he given you?”

 

Xo laughed, feeling some of the earlier tension break apart.

 

“I'd hesitate to use the word 'friendly,' Doctor. He seems to have something of a caring, protective streak in him... He's considerate of my injuries – lifting heavy things, doing light, physical tasks for me if I strain myself, telling me I should eat more, get more rest; that sort of thing...”

 

“Fascinating,” Akerele murmured, looking around like she wanted to find a clipboard to take notes on.

 

“It may be something inherent to him that Hydra's brainwashing didn't take away, or I suppose it could be a way of coping with his feelings of guilt... he might feel responsible for getting me involved in his issues, or he might feel guilty over frightening me the first time we spoke...” As she went on, Xolani wondered which of these she hoped would be true. She finished with a shrug. “I can't be sure until I get to know him better.”

 

“Wonderful! It sounds like you already have a solid foundation to work from,” the older woman cheered, looking genuinely hopeful that James seemed to be making some progress already. “But...”

 

Her smile dipped a little at the edges.

 

“I wonder if _maybe..._ he needs a friend, more than he needs another therapist?”

 

Xolani couldn't help it; she balked, despite her earlier resolution to put his welfare first.

 

“My position as his... That would be a breach of the patient-doctor--”

 

“I'm not saying you should _sleep with him_ , dear,” she interrupted, sounding scandalized. “Just that you should take advantage of the fact that you're stuck in this situation, and present yourself as someone he can truly be at ease around. A good friend who just happens to know mental health intimately and can help him get through his issues whenever he needs you? What could be better for him?”

 

She then grinned, “Besides, it looks like you're headed down that path already, dear. Why _not_ commit?” Xo smiled weakly, still not entirely sold on the idea, but slowly coming around to the view that it had some merits.

 

“Well, at least now if the Board finds out and has a problem with it, I can safely say 'Dr. Akerele told me to!' It'll fit right in line with what they think my position should be on this team, anyway.”

 

“What's that American expression? ' _Glass half full_?'”

 

Xo grinned. “I think ' _Every cloud has a silver lining_ ' works better in this context, but you get the idea.”

 

* * *

 

On the first night his insomnia returned, Bucky laid awake in bed, trying to remember how he used to deal with it before... well, _before_. He pondered that until the sun came up and then dragged himself downstairs to help his pretty house-mate make breakfast.

 

He didn't think to ask her why she was also awake at this hour, and by the time his tired brain thought about it, he realized he was already late to his physical therapy appointment in the gym.

 

On the second night, he simply got out of bed and did one-armed push-ups until he reached muscle failure. Then he stumbled his way into a warm shower and managed to get all the sweat off before collapsing – exhausted and naked – on top of his covers for a meager two hours of sleep.

 

On the third night, he managed to snag three hours, on-and-off, before tossing his blanket on the floor with a frustrated snarl. He felt like a dying live-wire... Drained and bleary for the most part, except for that occasional jittery tingle that kept him from keeping his damn eyes closed.

 

He pulled out a book that one of his therapists had given him and decided to try and read himself to sleep, but he was so tired, the words swam across his vision nonsensically.

 

On the fourth night, he didn't even try. He got out of bed, determined to tire himself out somehow, and eventually wandered into the living room.

 

Aside from the huge, oak-wood entertainment system, there was a row of bookshelves lined with DVDs, books, and even the odd VHS tape. In the center of the room, over a plush carpet was a long, luxurious, brown leather sectional-sofa. And seated on it was Xolani.

 

She started, obviously surprised to see him. Quickly though, the expression melted into a warm smile, and she dropped a bookmark into the novel she'd been reading. Dostoyevsky, he noted with mild interest.

 

“Can't sleep?”

 

“Thought I'd get a book to read,” he shrugged, the lie coming out easily.

 

“Great minds think alike, I guess.”

 

Bucky made his way over to the bookcase, for lack of anything else to do. Now that he'd told her he was looking for a book, he'd have to grab one or risk her finding out about the insomnia. The last thing he wanted was for her to ask any uncomfortable questions. They had a nice little routine forming, and he didn't care to upset that. It was familiar, structured... and it made him feel almost... _safe,_ in a weird way.

 

Abruptly, his train of thought was derailed when her head popped up in his peripheral vision. He didn't quite jump, but his body's automatic reaction was to clench his hand into a fist.

 

“Oh, you wanna watch a movie instead? They've actually got a pretty decent selection here!”

 

“Watch one yourself,” he snapped, still feeling a bit skittish, but she was considerate enough not to bump his shoulder or anything, at least.

 

Instead of letting the reprimand hurt her feelings, the dark-skinned woman gave him a soft sort of pout. It was such an alien expression to him – _what purpose could a face like that serve?_ – that he actually found himself staring at her lips in confusion for a full second before he realized she was talking.

 

“It's more fun to watch movies with someone else... especially if you've seen one that they haven't. I can't imagine you've had many opportunities to relax with some popcorn and a good action flick, so why not live a little?”

 

The harder he contemplated her moving mouth, the more appealing the idea sounded. This pout... he didn't trust it. It seemed... manipulative somehow.

 

He shrugged again, still struggling to classify her facial expression.

 

Evidently taking this to mean his consent, Xolani eagerly stepped forward and ran her finger over the spine of each DVD in turn, searching for a title she wanted.

 

“Hm... It'd be tempting to throw something like 'Star Wars' or 'Lord of the Rings' at you, but I think something a little more... A-HA!”

 

Triumphantly, she yanked a plastic DVD case off the shelf and shoved it in his face. It took a second for his sight to adjust, but when it did, he saw a man in a fedora, holding what looked like a bullwhip.

 

“Indiana Jones,” he read, blandly.

 

“The first in a three-part series and a modern movie _classic_ , by anyone's standards,” she paused, an impish smile flitting over her face briefly. “Well, technically there's a fourth part, but it's notoriously awful, so no one talks about it.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. I would describe it as _painfully bad_.”

 

“Well, with a sales pitch like that,” he drawled, feeling one side of his mouth kick up in a smirk. She laughed and he felt a sense of satisfaction at the sight.

 

“I'm not trying to sell you on watching _that_ train wreck, I'm trying to sell you on watching 'Raiders of the Lost Arc!' It takes place in the 30's or 40's, I think, so you--”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Really?” she sounded genuinely disbelieving.

 

In lieu of answering, he simply sat on the end of the leather sofa and waited. Turning with a smile, Xolani proceeded to fiddle with some of the settings on the entertainment system before sliding the disc out of its case and into the player.

 

He was slightly surprised when the film began with a big black screen that threatened its viewers with legal action should they duplicate its content. He didn't remember the few films he **had** seen back before the war, but he somehow doubted they opened so aggressively...

 

“Ah, I should get something to snack on while the previews are going. You want anything?”

 

He shook his head, transfixed at the numerous logos flashing by.

 

She returned moments later with a tub of ice cream and two spoons. His eyebrow went up of its own accord. The offer to share went unspoken, but it was clearly implied.

 

For the next hour, the two watched as the attractive, middle-aged archaeologist on screen out-foxed his Nazi adversaries. They quickly polished off the contents of the plastic tub between them, and when Xolani returned from briefly getting up to throw their garbage away, he couldn't help noticing that she sat a little closer to him than before.

 

He found himself relieved she did, because the ice cream had been pretty damn cold, and this way he could soak in some of her extra warmth. When the surface of her arm brushed his, he was shocked at the goosebumps lining her skin.

 

Silly girl. Without even thinking about it, he shifted a tiny bit closer so that he could share some of his own body heat with her in return.

 

When the Nazis in the film gathered around the arc to open it up, she surprised him by suddenly turning into the side of his chest and hiding her face with her hands. He stiffened, but she didn't appear to be that concerned with his comfort at the moment.

 

“Ugh, I hate this part,” she moaned piteously, almost burrowing into his side a little. He cautiously turned his attention back to the screen just in time to see a man's face melt off. Unexpectedly, he laughed. It was absolutely hilarious to him that a trained nurse would find such a ridiculous thing more off-putting than seeing a real man's windpipe being crushed in front of her.

 

Eventually, she laughed too. She probably knew exactly how silly it looked.

 

Interestingly, she didn't move away after this moment, seemingly content to watch the rest of the movie leaning partially against his chest.

 

He didn't examine why he allowed her to stay there. All he knew was that she was warm... and soft... and her skin smelled quite nice... and he was really too tired to make a fuss...

 

Before the credits even began rolling, both insomniacs drifted gently to sleep, neither one remembering exactly when they'd closed their eyes...

 

* * *

 


End file.
